The Deal

Forty-One-Imani

".... Feel the weight of your body sink into the couch," Thabo says. "By the sound of my voice, you will imagine going into a dark, empty void. And by the snap of my fingers, you will freeze. Your mind will be empty, like the dark void you're in right now. You will listen to everything I say, and afterward, you will follow my command..."

A slow pause follows afterward. He snaps his finger. ".... You will forget the events which occurred before the crash. You will forget your family. They do not exist. Your two kids do not exist. When you hear the names Kaya and Richelle, you will not know who these people are. You'll only remember your perverted father, whom you despise. I'll snap my fingers after this session, and when this happens, you will forget everything we said during this session...Nod your head if you understand..."

My stomach churning, I click on another audio file. It's timed at 9:40 AM; ".... By the sound of my voice, you will imagine going into a dark, empty void. When I snap my fingers, you will freeze. Your mind will be empty like the void you're in now. You'll follow my command." He snaps his fingers. "Imagine your father walking up to you while you're tied to the bed with ropes. In his hand is a blindfold. You're dressed inappropriately and your dad doesn't like it. He punishes you by putting—"

I click another audio file because it's too disgusting to hear this. I fast-forward it a bit. ".... Bernadette. Do you love me?" This one surprises me. I swear, I feel like I'm listening to a whole different conversation with these recordings. There are no traces of them in my mind. "No," was my reply.

I move on to the other audio. "Bernadette, do you hate your life? Laugh if no, and sigh if yes." I hear myself release a chuckle. "Do you want to live someone else's life?" I giggle again. "Are you planning to kill yourself?" I laugh. "Are you an alcoholic?" Again, I chuckle. "Do you love me?" With this question, silence rests for the remaining audio time. I sit there, anticipating to hear my reaction, but nobody speaks.

"What you just heard was a series of tests." I startle, only to see Bill leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. "The last ones, I mean. He wanted to make sure the memories he created existed inside your head."

I realize the audio has already ended. Because this is too strange for me, I turn off the phone and take my photo album. "I sounded like a zombie."

Bill takes a seat beside me. Being with my godfather. Hearing his voice, despite the sarcasm, has filled me with calmness. I feel at home anytime I'm around him and as if there's nothing to fear. I feel like he's always there to protect me. I want to know why I feel this way.

"How did I kill Ivan?" I'm gazing at his picture. Pretty bulky and muscular, square-jawed, and sports nice dimples. He's the same height as Baduza.

"Why're so interested in remembering?"

I furrow my brows at him. "From the photo I'm glaring at, this man had been special to me. I deserve to know."

"If you must know, he ran after he killed your mother in a house fire."

"Oh." My hopes of seeing my parents again sink. It would make sense since they've barely tried to reach me. "It's good I killed him, then. I remember watching a man fall down the stairs."

"Yeah. The reason he did it, well, he was simply furious. Upset that you left him after you found out he was a lying, cheating scum. You confronted him at his own home. He sustained nine angry stab wounds but died when he snapped his neck as he fell down the stairs. Gosh, I remember the fear in your voice when you called me to help you. It's giving me chills talking about it. Your mom always warned me to stay away from you, but I knew damn well I couldn't. So, I hid the body. I told your dad about the incident, while he was still in prison at the time—"

"Is my dad still alive and out of prison?"

"Yes. But he won't be released till five more years." At least not all hope is lost. I can always go visit him.

"He was involved in a robbery smuggling and some other crimes a few years before you were born," Bill continues. "You'd been raised by a single mom, just like Kaya and Richelle. So, like I was saying, your dad contacted a real estate friend here in Alberton. He gave us an apartment where you and the kids could move in. When we moved from Cape Town, I secretly planned to create a new identity for you, 'cause I really didn't want anyone connecting you to Ivan's disappearance. But by the time I found a friend who could help us with it, Jabar and those assholes snatched you from me."

He shakes his head, but now I see the bitterness on his face. "I promised Kaya and Richelle I'd come back. Even though I couldn't reveal myself, I made sure I made them happy. I was leaving them gifts to remind them I was still watching. Looking for a way to free them. Bernadette would throw my gifts in the trash because she wanted me wiped out of their lives.

If I may recall, there were times you'd stand on the bridge to cry. You felt so guilty getting away with murder. This happened three days after we moved here. You told me you were terrified of Kaya and Richelle knowing the truth about you being a killer. You were worried they'd find out you took their dad away. There were times you wanted to turn yourself in, but I talked you out of it."

I nod, finally understanding what the bridge meant in my lost memory. "Well, it's not a secret anymore, though. The kids found out. Now, I'm wondering what they must think of me."

"You'll clarify and tell them what really happened after we get them back."

"Yeah. Since Thabo made me forget, there's not a single ounce of regret I have for ending him."

Bill wraps his arm around my shoulder, and I relax against him, taking in the homey honey cologne. My mother and father are gone, so now he's my only parent. "You always wanted to be a comedian."

I lift my brows at him. "A comedian?"

He chuckles. "Yeah. You started cracking some dark jokes when you were about twelve or thirteen. It bothered your mom a lot. You used to have this scrapbook full of them. Trust me, your mom used to think it was a phase, but then by sixteen, you told her you'd like to be a comedian. Oh, she became furious. To me, I think she just wasn't the right audience for your kind of humor."

I chuckle along with him. "I don't even think I'm funny. I don't think anyone finds my jokes funny."

"Yeah. But tell you what, I was a fan. Why do you think your mom hated me so much, eh?"

"I understand why," I say, chuckling. "I really wish I'd met my mother again."

Bill goes quiet now. "This feels kind of wrong thing to say, but I'm so glad Thabo made you forget Ivan. He was not a good boy. He lied about being broke. You were out there struggling to find a job. Begging your mother for money to fend for the kids, while the idiot was chilling with his other home boys in five-star houses. He slept with other women at the parties he'd go to. Like he was living a whole double life. Looking back at it now, man, when you told me you were going to find and kill him, I regret trying to talk you out of doing it. If I were in your shoes, I would have done the same."

"Ivan doesn't exist anymore," I say as I turn to his photo page. "So, we must keep it that way. Kaya and Richelle shouldn't be reminded of him ever again." I rip the part of him in the photo in half.

"I'm sorry for not reaching out to you." Bill kisses me on the forehead. "I promise I'll never abandon you again, Imani."

"I know," I reply to him. And I mean it when I tighten my grip on his arm. "I've felt so alone, believing I was someone else. So empty. It was really bad. But finding you and knowing I still have a family; I feel like a human being again. I'm not just existing. I'm living for something."

"We'll have plenty of days to make up for that. But we have to free Kaya and Richelle now."

"Right. I'll expose Bernadette myself."

Bill shifts his body back. "Sweetheart, no. You've been following her, so it wouldn't work. She'll be on guard. Since she hasn't seen me before, I'll have to get the truth out of her."

I nod. "Okay. You're right."

When Bill leaves me to sleep, I lay in Yvonne's spacious bed, not fearing to encounter any evil spirit of an ex-husband. The album clutched to my body; anxiety clouds my thoughts. How the hell are we going to get them to confess anything?